"Shhh! Do not make a sound.. or I won't refrain myself to tie you up!" His grip on my wrist tightens.
I need to get my book from him, in which I wrote all of my erotic fantasies.
Fantasies that he is slowly turning real in his evil ways.
It's like...
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Emara Stone
The wind fiercely flows through my hair like showing its aggressive powers. But to me, it left like a gentle kiss of a lover. I close my eyes and feel it tickle on my skin as it brush pass my cheeks.
I unfold my arms and spread it out in the open, letting the wind untame my wings like it did to my braid. My hair floats like music cords in the air, playing along with the icy breeze, creating a song that-
*Screeeeech*
"FUCK!" I scream in pain as my nose hits the hard helmet head in front of me, sending jolts of aching sparks all over my face. Ouch. Bitch. Ouch!
"What the hell was that?" Ethan barks as he takes out his helmet and checks for any damage. This son of a biscuit!
"My nose hit your stupid helmet when you pulled the brakes out of nowhere." I yell with a throbbing nose.
"Well, that's what people do when they reach their destination." Ethan yaps as he hops out of the motorbike, almost hitting my face again.
This lil dick!
"Stop being so dramatic. With or without a nose, you still look gay to me." He comments after looking at my majestic face.
"We have the same features, silly ass." I scowl in return. Audacity of this bitch!
Ethan is just a minute older than me, but we are nowhere similar. He is like the descendent of Einstein, whereas I am like Lady Gaga, too weird to describe.
"We got late again. Shit!" Ethan curses under his breath and jogs towards the university building. What a nerd!
I tie my tangled static hair and bury them under the cap of my hoodie. I am so skilled at changing looks that I can dress up like anyone, even as a man and no one would ever come to know of it.
Wow! Nice plot. I could write a story on it.
I pop some M&Ms as I look around the campus, the Instagram beauties are updating their morning selfies and replying to their hungry fans who masturbated on their night selfie. Their eyeliner, mascara, contour, and glossy straight hair are flawlessly styled. On fleek!
I scratch my greasy hair underneath the cap as I wonder at what time do they wake up to groom themselves, probably at 5 o'clock in the morning. And here I don't even get time to clean my nose.
I scratch my nose as I walk to the stationary to buy lab manuals. The number of people I see around me makes me want to pray to the almighty to set my college on fire. Let the flames burn all my test papers and data of my past exam records along with the sadist teachers who love to torture students.
Amen!
The crowd around me subdues knowing the first lecture has been started and here I am walking clumsily towards the building without any passion to attend the lecture.
